


randompersyn

by notsafefortheworld



Category: Undertale
Genre: General fiction, Literature, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:22:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafefortheworld/pseuds/notsafefortheworld





	randompersyn

Huh.  
I shine my flashlight down.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
...Wow. That's a really deep hole.  
I step towards it. Cautiously! I don't, like, just go 'hey let's run over to the edge of this cliff!' But. I kinda wanna see the bottom.  
Carefully, I take another step forward, shining the light in. Test the weight under my foot. So far, so good. I focus back on the beam of light, flicking it around. I _still_ can't see to the bottom, and I probably shouldn't get any closer to the edge. I lean forward a little.  
And there's a _crack_. _Oooooh shit_. I scramble back, but it's kind of hard to move yourself through thin air. _Fuck fuck fuck I'm gonna die I'm actually gonna die oh shit oh shit oh shit_ -  
except. What? .  .    .  
I'm still descending. _Falling_ somehow...doesn't quite describe it. A good portion of cliff-face, broken into pieces, is alternately below, beside, and above me.  
I struggle to get out from under it, survival instinct outweighing the _what the fuck is going on_. It's not...a super slow pace. But it's slow enough that I don't...if _whatever_ this is continues, assuming I ever reach the ground, it should be in one piece.  
If I can manage to _get out from under this fucking piece of rock_. I grunt and scramble at it. Push. It doesn't move. _Shit_. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, huh? I think hysterically. I grab at it, trying to anchor myself. Maybe I can move _me_. Aaaaaah nope.  
Not working. It's like I'm being kept in a relative position.   
The rocks aren't even rotating. _What is this?_  Well.  
I've been falling for maybe thirty seconds. Maybe not. Hard to tell when you're afraid for your life.  
I look down.  
_Oooooh,_  I wish I didn't do that. _Knowing_ you're falling while being (impossibly) slowed down is _quite_ different from looking down and seeing _nothing below you_. Ever stood on a glass floor over a steep drop?  
...Yeah. This is a little worse. I try not to hyperventilate and fail massively. I'm going to die. Somehow, miraculously, I'm _probably_ not gonna go **splat** , but that rock will _crush_ whatever part of me it lands on. I'm not sure if that thought is more frightening, or the possibility that it won't kill me immediately, and I'll be trapped under it, in pain. Starving. Do I even have my cellphone?  
No. Because I fucking hate that thing. _Of course_ I would refuse to bring it, _of course_ I would fall down a cliff that was structurally unsound, _of course nothing fucking makes sense right now but_ **that doesn't matter, I'm gonna be dead soon!**  My frantic breathing is audible.  
It occurs to me that I haven't screamed once. Maybe..maybe, someone is around?! With rope?! I don't fucking know!  
"H-help!" My voice is hoarse.  
"A-anyone! Please! I'm falling!" I can hear my voice echo off the walls below, distorted. _'m falling.._.. Then, a voice. I think it's a voice. I pray it's a voice.  
I have no idea what the fuck they're saying.  
"He-hello?!" I call back. I don't know how close to the bottom I am; any light from above is being conveniently obscured by yours truly and the cliff. (It thinks it's so funny...) And then.  
Then there's light. From below.  
I'm...hoo boy. I'm, uh, still pretty high up. Maybe sixty feet? My head spins. I wrap my arms around myself and _squeeze_. My vision returns from black, barely. I try to breathe. It comes out much louder than I'd like (I'll be embarrassed about that later) and it's really, _really_ hard to not hyperventilate.  
Especially when there's something that _looks kind of humanoid_ , but even from this distance, I can tell something's... _off_. The proportions are wrong. The color. The _size_. Are...  
the stories about creatures under the mountain true?  
I scramble to think coherently. Okay. Falling. Check. Slow falling thing. Check. Weird possibly-demon-maybe-wants-my-SOUL.  
I don't know how to deal with that one. Too many variables. I make a confused sort of sound. I'm closer now, because I was staring like an idiot-I'm maybe thirty feet off the ground. I try hard not to look directly at it.  
Maybe it won't realize I'm there. And it'll go away.  
And I can just keep falling forever. Peachy.  
Yeah, no. Maybe not.  
But I'm still not looking at it directly, just in case it somehow breaks whatever's holding me from _plummeting_.  
I start to struggle, though I don't know _what against_. The air? The impossibility of this situation, physically manifested? The fact that   
_from here that looks very like a bipedal goat who really, really reminds me of my mom?  
_ It-they-she? - she's looking up, squinting into the darkness. Light suddenly flashes, and I cover my face with my arm instinctively.  
"Oh!" It's a very feminine voice. I don't understand the logistics of that. Not important.  
How close am I to the ground? I peek down; the light dimmed almost immediately after it flared up. I'm..ten, fifteen feet off. I swallow.  
A survivable (theoretically) height.  
God, I hate falling. Or jumping. The goat lady is looking very concerned.  
"A human!" Um. Yes. Last time I checked.  
....Was there another option? Could I have been a frog instead?  
She squints up at me.  
"Are you alright, my child?" I blink. Then wave a little, awkwardly. I seem to be...not..moving anymore?  
"Um. Well. Kind of?" I scrunch my brow.  
"Kind of worried about this boulder and also the whole gravity not working thing, but that part was, um, in my favor, so I'm _really_ not complaining." I speak quickly, speeding up toward the end. I can bring up the fact that she's a talking goat once I'm on the ground. If I ever get to the ground.  
She smiles, and somehow, _somehow_ , I'm instantly reassured. Like someone just wrapped a blanket around me and handed me a mug of hot chocolate.  
Yeah, I don't get it either. I'm not a people person. And she seems like she's, um, close enough to _people_ for it to count. (I used to get into arguments with my mom about whether animals were people. She said the definition stated _human_.)  
There's...I'm probably dead. I'm probably dead and I'm hallucinating this. Or I'm in shock, still falling, and my brain is spazzing out like crazy.  
Either way, there's nothing I can do, so why not enjoy the ride? _Welcome to Wonderland. Where's your ticket, Alice?_  
"Thankfully, I have the ability to aid with this, my child." I'm-moving again. Really slowly. Look up-nothing else is.  
Um. My feet touch the ground, and I scramble out from underneath the rocks. The descend slowly, but...drift off to the side?  
_They drift sideways? What the hell, Gravity?! I thought we were friends?!!_  
She smiles at me again, and now that there's nothing obscuring it, natural light filters in through the _giant-ass hole in the ceiling_.  
She definitely has fur. And is kind of a goat. And seems to be a lady. I do what any New Hampshirite would do.  
I stare.  Surprisingly, this doesn't seem to put her off in the least. She smiles, stepping forward.  
"I understand it must be somewhat shocking, falling into the Underground." That sounded like a capital-letters word. She's still smiling.  
"Let alone meeting a monster for the first time." When I just continue to stare, mind uncomprehending (I'm kind of going numb, honestly.) her smile falters. She steps forward.  
"My child? You-" _Oooooh there it is_. I manage to turn away as I vomit my last few meals up. Yup, that's...that's not pleasant.  
"Oh, dear." If my nose wasn't streaming and my mouth didn't taste like bile, I would _laugh_ at that dainty little phrase. It just.  
Doesn't make sense. Any of this. _What the hell is going on?!_  
Hallucination, I remind myself. My brain knows it's dying and there's nothing it can do about it, so it's distracting itself with pretty pictures and pointing out shapes in the clouds.  
And talking goat ladies.  
"Oh, dear." She repeats, sounding...still quite concerned.  
Well. Maybe it'll be a _nice_ hallucination. You know. Before I go **splat**.  
Vomiting felt really real, though. [Internal snort. _Wow._ Mom bothered to be you a thesaurus, because...?] I move to wipe my mouth off on the back of my sleeve, and hear a 'no, no' kind of clucking sound, before something wipes my mouth off.  
"I am afraid I do not have anything for you to rinse your mouth with," she says grimly. I just kind of blink at her. Then start laughing.  
Really, what a day. She seems somewhat worried. I start to mirror that feeling, before darkness starts creeping in on the edges of my vision, and then _boom_. Out like a light.   
Probably dead now.  
________________________________

Toriel stares at the human. Thankfully, she had good enough reflexes to catch them with her magic (not with her arms; she's well aware that she is large and, to this child, most likely very strange-looking, as well as actually being a stranger) before they hit the ground.  
To catch them for the second time.  
They are wearing a striped shirt, but they look quite... _different_ , from the other children that have fallen.  
Taller, certainly. And...well, they don't _look_ like a child. She doesn't remember if humans actually wear striped shirts to signify youth, either.  
Perhaps they are nearing adulthood?   
Regardless. She quickly eyes their STATs. Thankfully, they didn't take any damage from the fall.  
She's not quite sure what to make of the color of their SOUL. It looks.... _green_. But they do not _feel_ as though they are a green SOUL. Putting it out of her mind for now, she gently lifts them into her arms. They'll be too big to fit in Frisk's bed, regardless of whether they are a child-if she were going to put them there in the first place. She wonders how Frisk will react to meeting another human.  
They'll finally have some company.  
If...if she can convince this child to stay. She convinced Frisk, didn't she? Yes. Her resolve strengthens. _She saved one child_.   
She can save another.  
The thought that this human might be unkind doesn't even enter the equation.  
__________________

Waking up is a slow process. I feel vaguely...melancholic. But. _Really_ well-rested; my muscles aren't even sore, like they usually are when I wake up. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm sleeping on my back, not in some weird position. Which is unusual enough; I _always_ sleep in some convoluted position. I just can't fall asleep otherwise. But this doesn't feel like my bed.  
I open my eyes.  
I can't....I can't see?! I let out a startled yelp, heart thudding. Oh, god, am I blind? But....  
I can see a _different_ way. I 'watch' what feels like energy swirl in the air as I breath out. This...this is interesting. Maybe not good. But definitely interesting. The most I can _see_ is maybe...a bunch of blue. With my actual eyes.  
There's a knock. I see a flash of a blue door, and blink. How...?  
"My child? I heard yelling. Are you unwell?" I sit stunned for a little while. I don't recognize that voice. I don't recognize this place. I swallow.  
"My child?" The voice is suddenly much softer, although it was gentle in tone before.  
"I am going to come in. Is that alright?" They-she?-wait for an answer. I clear my throat.  
"O-okay." There's a distinct sensation-from them-of tension being released, and the door opens with a quiet click. They/she crosses the room, not slowly, but not quickly-trying not to scare me? Preparing for in case I try to escape? I don't know.  
They/she lower themself by the bed. Their voice is still very soft.  
"I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. Do you remember...do you remember meeting me, my child?" I blink, then shake my head. My first thought pops out.  
"I can't see. My eyes don't hurt, but I can't see. I can see...a _different_ way. Am I blind?" Rude to turn the conversation on myself. I'll apologize in a minute. Right now, _I need to know_. There's a....kind of _sweeping_  feeling. I hear the frown in their voice.  
"There's nothing wrong with your eyes, my child. I am sorry; I do not know why you cannot see. Can you describe this other manner of vision for me?" Her voice is gentle and a little sad and oddly maternal. It sets me at ease. This person seems to mean no harm.  
"I can...see _colors_. Except they're not...they're not _normal_ colors." I frown.  
"H-hold on. Let me...I can explain better. I just...need a minute. To think." The voice is soothing now.  
"Take all the time you need, young one." I think for a few seconds.  
"It's like...energy currents. Kind of. And a _little_ bit of normal colors. I think. Maybe. You look...white and purple? Maybe I'm not seeing right," I say doubtfully. There's a chuckle.  
"No, my child. That is accurate." My brow wrinkles-I'll come back to it-but for now.  
"And. I can. Kind of see...me? I look green, though. It's not, like, my body. But it's me. And I can see..." I squint, trying to focus.  
"Something. It looks kind of like a weird triangle? Maybe? In you. It's white, too. And it feels..." I frown more strongly.  
"It feels...soft?" It's suddenly obscured from view.  
"That's enough, my child." Their tone is almost scolding, and I flinch back on instinct. What did I do wrong?  
"I-I'm sorry," I say. The obstruction-her hand-falls, and there's dark red-purple in front of the shape. A barrier? It keeps me from seeing it clearly. But she didn't want me looking at that-I think-so I look away.  
"Oh, my child. I am sorry; I should not have snapped. You would not have known you were doing anything wrong." I hunch a little further. Something covers my hand. Something...is she wearing gloves? Not too important.  
"Be at ease, my child. You meant no harm. I am not angry." I blink, swallow again. [I did _not_ almost cry. Did _not_.] A comforting hand smooths my hair. Oddly enough, it doesn't feel threatening at all, her being in my personal space. I'll trust my instincts for now.  
There's a soft sigh.  
"The shape you spoke of is my SOUL." [I can... _see_ her speech? Why is that capitalized? Why can I see it suddenly?] My brow furrows again, and I tilt my head up questioningly.  
"Yes. To my understanding, humans have lost the ability to use magic, and, as such, have forgotten that SOULs do in fact exist." My mind stops for a moment.  
"...Humans?" There's a surprised, tinkering laugh. It's a lovely, warming sound. I enjoy it for am moment through my shock.  
"Yes, my child. Humans. I am a monster; you have fallen, I am afraid, into the Underground." My thoughts are as quick as molasses. This doesn't...make sense.  
"Prove it," I say quickly. She doesn't seem offended in the least.  
"May I see you hand, my child? As you cannot see..." I lift it in her direction. She takes it, and slowly guides it forward. It comes to rest on...  
Fur? She releases it.  
"Please try not to poke either of my eyes, young one." I sit still for a moment, then move my fingers. Yes, it is fur. I move my hand down.  
"Is this a mask?" I have to ask. It's _warm_ , but. The features-her cheek-moves under my hand. Her face is absurdly large. I _thought_ she was big, but I figured I was just...seeing wrong.  
No; she's _gigantic_. Her voice is warm and comforting, soft.  
"No, my child. It is not a mask." I swallow. I  move my hand up, carefully. Try to _not_ poke her in the eye, like she asked. There's something...hard?  
"What are these?" I ask, puzzled. Chortles.  
"My horns, young one." I lift my other hand, hesitate.  
"Can I..?" She nods under my hand. I remove it, scoot forward, then reach out again with both hands. I have to search a little to find them again.  
She has horns. Two horns. Apparently actually attached to her head. And...  
"Ears?" I mutter to myself. She chuckles again.  
"Your ears are very soft," I compliment her.  
"Why thank you, my child." She sounds honestly pleased. I bring my hands back to rest in my lap.  
"So. Um." I swallow again.  
"You're a monster. That's..." I pause.  
"This...isn't some kind of elaborate prank, right?" Her voice is understanding.  
"I understand; it is a lot to take in at once. But no, my child. It is not a prank." I bite my lip. Tilt my head back up.  
"The Underground, you said? I don't...I don't remember _anything_ today. I don't actually, um. Remember. Anything past eating breakfast and getting in the car...getting in the car..to go to the mountain." My eyes widen.  
"I'm...we're...is this Mount Ebott?" A large hand-paw?-covers both of mine.  
"Yes, my child. Or, rather, we are _under_ Mount Ebott." My mind reels again. We're...  
"I fell," I repeat. I vaguely remember-wind rushing, and then-- _slowing_? That's not how falling works.  
"I should...have died. I fell really far," I murmur, mostly to myself. I blink. Memories-the memory of how I fell, of the morning leading up to it-click into place with a sense of finality.  
"I fell. _Really, really_ far. But everything..slowed down? The cliff gave out below me. I was being careful, but I fell anyway. I was only supposed to be here on a hike. But I was curious about...about the disappearances. And I found the hole. And...then I fell. I should be dead. Why aren't I dead?" I flick my eyes back up to her. I can 'see' her expression; it's different than seeing with my eyes, but I can sort of see her features, illuminated slightly in purple. She's kind of grimacing, one side of her mouth twisted down. I don't think she would be making that face if she knew I could see it.  
"That is the only entrance to the Underground. It was inevitable that at some point, another would fall. After my first child..." She looks away. Her mouth is set tightly.  
"After a child fell and was harmed, I put a slowing effect in place, to prevent the same thing from happening to another." I blink, shoulders drawing back. I look down. I can.. _sort of_  see her hands? I can't see where they _are_ , though. My sense of where they are spatially is messed up. I reach out to where I can _feel_ one, and put my hand over it. She starts, just slightly.  
"Oh! I am sorry, my child. That is a sad story; I did not intend to tell you of it." I try my best to smile at her, a little bit.  
"Talking helps, right? I don't mind listening. Though. I do kind of have some questions about...down here." I look down. She chuckles, and ruffles my hair gently.  
"Of course, my child. Do not worry about it. For now, how about some cinnamon-butterscotch pie?" I 'look' back up at her. She's putting on a brave face; or, rather, voice. Her smile is sad, as are her eyes. I squeeze her hand out of habit, and she squeezes back before standing and holding out a...  
"Do you call them paws or hands? I'm sorry, is that rude?!" I smack a hand to my face. She chuckles surprisedly, and gently removes my hand from my face.  
"It is not rude when it is an honest question, my child. Either word is functional; I, personally, call them either, given my mood." I smile back up at her tentatively, and her face splits into _the warmest_ smile I've ever...felt. There's _light_ coming from her. Geez. She gently guides me from the room-is she ever anything _but_ gentle?  
Wait. Food?  
__________________  
I was skeptical of 'cinnamon-butterscotch' pie (I've never really liked pie to begin with, and am not particularly fond of either cinnamon or butterscotch [though, given a choice between the two, I would choose butterscotch]), but it was actually...quite delicious. Gooey, and warm-the just right temperature, despite the fact that she said she cooked it a few hours ago. (Apparently, I was out for a good while.) I'm about to ask how it's still warm when I hear the door to the house open. Quizzically, I shoot a questioning glance at Toriel. She claps her paws (hands?) together.  
"Ah! That must be Frisk. They will be delighted to meet you, I'm sure!" I tilt my head. Frisk? From her tone, it's...probably, maybe, a kid? Her kid? [Pf. She's a goat. Her _kid_.] Skittering footfalls confirm this. Toriel calls out, not loudly:  
"In the kitchen, my child!" They pause for less than a second before coming this way.  
Into the kitchen scoots...well. There's a lot of hair.  
Is that a monster? I blink. Meanwhile, they seem to be frozen. I put my fork down carefully and fold my hands in my lap, trying to look harmless so I don't scare/startle/whatever them further. Toriel's voice is surprised, confused, and worried.  
"My child? What is wrong?" I see a flurry of hand movements, too fast for me to even _begin_ to comprehend-if I could see them that well, and if I knew sign language. Toriel's hands rise placatingly, slowly.  
"My child, I am sure it is fine. They are quite kind; come say hello!" After a pause-and quite warily-they cross the kitchen slowly, feet scuffing as if they really don't _want_ to, but are doing so to make her happy. They sign a quick _hello_. That much I can see.  
"I am afraid they cannot see very well, young one." I hesitate.  
"I can see a _little_. Now. It's still really blurry. I didn't know how to bring it up." I scratch the back of my head, lowering it.  
"Sorry." Frisk doesn't seem to react visibly, but Toriel is ecstatic, clapping her hands together.  
"Oh, my child! That's wonderful! Perhaps it will return fully, no?" I nod, then shrug. I really have no idea. [Honestly, I prefer the other way of seeing. It's much more interesting. If problematic.]  
***You can see without looking?**  I turn, startled, in surprise.  
"Yes. Um. Kind of." I hesitate. They come up closer, resting their hands on the table. It kind of reminds me of a puppy, honestly.  
Are they a monster? I can't see very well, but they kind of look....like a human kid. I look the other way. _Woah_. Okay. Wow, their SOUL is bright. Remembering Toriel's reaction, though, I quickly look away, trying to focus on them on the outside. [It was _super_ red. Looked like a heart. Like...Toriel's upside down? Why is one upside down and one 'right-side-up'?] I see...I squint. Huh. There's...information?  
_Frisk. LV 1. HP 23/23._  I blink, refocusing my eyes, and it disappears.  
That was weird.  They're still staring at me, and I realize I've been staring at them. My face heats up.  
"O-oh. Um. Sorry. I'm...still getting used to it. Toriel, what's...there were numbers? What's 'LV'? Is 'HP' like 'health points', like in a video game?" If I don't ask now, I'll forget. She seems mildly surprised.  
"Yes. Well, no, actually, it stands for 'HoPe', but 'health points' would be a suitable acronym as well. LV..." She hesitates.  
"'LV' is 'Level of Violence'. It is the measure of how much harm you have inflicted on others willingly, and how...detached from doing so, you are. Your capability to hurt, so to speak." I blink. Head tilt. Blink.  
"Frisk?" That sounds an awful lot like...T hey look at me with their big eyes and bushy hair.  
The kid that got lost on the mountain two months ago. I tilt my head at them.  
"You're a human, aren't you?" They blink, little shoulders drawing back, and sign something. I half-smile-half-grimace apologetically.  
"Sorry, buddy. I still can't see that well. Plus, I don't really know ASL. Or. Whatever variation of sign...that is." According to my grandmother-and I'd presume she would know; she doesn't give out false information like my mom (albeit unintentionally) does.-all sign language-or at least the French and American versions-are similar.  
So maybe not all of them. But, eh. They grimace, then 'say':  
***...who are you?**  I blink at them. Put my head on my fist on my elbow on the table.  
"Well, geez, kid. Don't you think that's kind of personal? Or maybe philosophical..." I scrunch my brows as if thinking very hard. They giggle, and one side of my mouth quirks up. I stick out a hand.  
"I'm Elliot." I nod over.  
"Ms. Toriel here named me." Frisk looks shocked.  
***You didn't have a name!?!**  I blink at them, then grin, resting my head back on my hand, fingers uncurled.  
"Nope." _Yes,_ but no. Not one I liked for general public use, anyway. Elliot is....nice.  
I think I can grow into it. It feels _stripey_. And kind of orange, like a tabby cat.  
They boggle at me, and I laugh a little. They sign shyly, then seem to remember I can't see it and scuff a foot instead.  
***So....are you not-a-girl too?** My heart clenches, and I get out of my chair to kneel by them.  
"Oh, sweetie. Yes, I'm 'not-a-girl' too. Well." I rephrase that.  
" _Sometimes_ I'm a girl. But I go by 'they' to avoid general confusion and mass hysteria." They giggle again, a little louder than the first time, and I grin at them, reach out to ruffle their hair. They flinch back, and I recoil.  
"I-I-" They grab my hand and put it on their head, holding it their with two little hands and looking me straight in the eyes. I swallow and pet them softly.  
"...Not the best life, huh, kid?" I ask, quietly. Their silence is...answer enough. I briefly consider whether Toriel made them afraid, before immediately dismissing the thought. Short of horrific split-personality-disorder or something - and she doesn't feel unstable like that (or. Unstable at all, really. Just maybe kind of a hidden _something_. But not dangerously.) - it's....rather hard to imagine Toriel hurting _anyone_. No, this...  
Must have been from before they fell, or from someone else down here. I look them in the eye too, hold their (so small) hands in mine gently, make my voice the same. Despite that, there's an edge to it.  
"Did someone down here do that to you?" They shake their head vehemently, and I release the breath I was holding quietly. On the one hand, that means they (probably) will never have to see the assholes that hurt or scared [probably both] them again.  
On the other, it means _I can't beat the shit out of them_. Frisk must notice the change in my demeanor. They give my hands a little squeeze worriedly. I look back up at them, give a small smile and shake my head.  
"Sorry, kiddo. Just...thinkin." I lower my eyes again.  
"I'm...really glad you're not near whoever hurt you anymore." I squeeze their little hands again, lightly. I'd give them a hug, but I literally just met the kid, and-they wrap their arms around my neck, and it's only my marvelous gracefulness that keeps us both from falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes and a half.  
Just kidding. We totally plummet.  
" _Ooph_. Jeez, kid. Give a fella some warning." I say jokingly. They giggle and poke my stomach. I give them the stinky eyeball.  
"Don't you _dare_ , kiddo." They grin widely, then wiggle their fingers. I stand and hoist them over one shoulder in a fireman's lift.  
"Alright. That's it." They giggle and beat (very obviously fakely) on my back with their fists, wriggling minimally in protest. I turn around.  
"Miss Toriel, is there somewhere to throw small children that they won't be harmed?" I ask, straight-faced. She covers the lower half of her own face with one paw, suppressing what might be a giggle.  
"There's a leaf pile outside that I believe would be adequate for this purpose." I keep my grip on the kid's legs with one arm and mock-salute with the other. Surprisingly, she salutes back (her impression is much better. Do monsters have a military, anyway?) and I nod officiously and turn on my heel, doing my best not to whack the kid into anything. It's actually...I can't _see_ anything, but I can sort of... _tell_ when there's going to be an obstruction? There are a few close calls, though. I see a bright red _something_ outside and walk over to it.  
Leaf pile. Check.  
"Here ya go, kiddo." I dump them in it after assuring myself that yes, it's deep enough to prevent any likely injury. They squeal with delight as they fall, and a puff of leave scatters as they land. I chortle at them, then plant my fists on my hips.  
"I have had my revenge!" I raise one of them.  
"Fear the mighty name of Elliot!" We're both giggling again at this point, and I say,  
"Scootch over, tiny." They stick out a tongue at me, and oblige. I flop down, then start making a leaf angel. They chuckle, then copy my antic. A ribbit makes me look up.  
_It's a frog_. **It's a huge fucking frog**. I sit up and pull on Frisk's sleeve, whisper.  
" _Oh my god Frisk look at that frog it's_ **ginormous**." They sit bolt upright, one arm reaching out towards it.  
***Don'-**  the world twists. When the sense of vertigo is over, everything is black and white and...I can't. I can't see Frisk?! Or the tree, or the leaf pile, or- _OW! Fuck!_   **What** was that? (vaguely, I note the same kind of text I saw with Frisk is present. The name presented is 'Elliot', thankfully.)   
The frog glares up at me. I back away.  
"Whoa, what-" it gives an angry croak. A bunch of-are those... _flies?_ They're _white_. -appear, and bounce around. I get the feeling I should _probably try to avoid them_. They disappear after a few seconds, and the frog sits -glaring?- up at me. I take a deep breath-I'd crouch down, but I want to be able to move in case whatever _that_ is happens again, and I think it probably will-and say,  
"Little buddy, I don't want to, uh. Whatever this is. Attack you. I rather like frogs; they're cool, and squishy, and slimy, and they make pretty weird sounds. So I'd appreciate it if...it seems like it's _you_ attacking me. Somehow. If _you'd_ stop attacking me, and then...I'd say 'I'd pet you', but I don't think frogs like being petted.." I scratch the front of my head. The frog croaks, having apparently waited for me to finish my monologue, and another rain of 'flies' appears. They're...much easier to dodge?   
The frog seems disinterested in fighting. I crouch down, a little more confident, and hold out a hand, like to a dog.  
"Hey, little dude. Why don't we be pals? I promise, I won't bite." It ribbits, and suddenly the vertigo sensation happens in reverse. When I finish blinking my way out of it, the frog butts it's head against my hand, then hops away. Something sparkly catches my eye in the dirt, and I look down. ...Coins?  
"Hey, you dropped-" it's nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, I pocket them with a sigh. We'll probably run into each other again. I can give the...money?-back then. I jolt as a pair of arms wraps around me from behind, then laugh.  
"Hey. Whoa, kid. Happy t' see me? Mind telling me what happened there?" They sound frustrated.  
***A monster fight. That was a Froggit. He shouldn't have attacked you. It wasn't nice!**  They also sound indignant. I ruffle their hair, choreographing my motion before I do it.  
"Yeah, I wasn't too pleased either. On the bright side, I got to meet an oddly sentient frog today?" I shrug halfway, generally feeling a little bamboozled.  
Is _everything_ down here this topsy-turvy? I unlatch their arms from around my middle so I can turn around, then do so. They're half-frowning. I sigh.  
"So. A monster fight, huh? Mind telling me a little about how that works?" Seems like I'm missing something, here. They perk up, though, so apparently good call? Their hands move as they 'talk'.  
***We can practice with the training dummy!** Uh. They start to run off toward the house, then spin around and point.  
***Stay!**  I put my hands up placatingly. They nod determindedly, then resume their helter-skelter pace. I flop back onto the pile of leaves.  
"Welp. This day probably can't get much weirder."  
_________________

I was wrong. Situation check: I'm currently being instructed by a goat(lady) to talk to an inanimate object about the weather. Or anything, really. I scuff a foot.  
"Uh...hi, there. So, about those cumuli..?" Toriel seems pleased. Somehow the world is... _partially_ doing that black-'n-white thing, but instead of it continuing (presumably) forever, it fades off into color a few feet off from the, uh, 'enemy' and I. I can vaguely see white in the _shape_ of a dummy with not-my-eyes, which seems a little weird [residual energy from being a punching bag...? Maybe it's enchanted so it can be used for this kind of thing...?] I shuffle a little and clear my throat. Toriel speaks encouragingly.  
"In any FIGHT, you will have the several options. To attack, to _act_  in a certain manner, to use an item, or to use MERCY. MERCY can be used either to SPARE or to flee. If you successfully SPARE a monster, they will often leave a small amount of gold to thank you for your kindness." _Gold?_ That seems a little...well, it explains the frog thing a bit, anyway.  
"If you are pulled into a FIGHT, simply _act_ until I can come and end the FIGHT." That sounds very codependent.  
"Wouldn't it make more sense to try to end it myself? Is it hard to do?" I can't see her expression from here.  
"Every monster has a different pattern of attack, as well as a different strategy to SPARE them. Ending a FIGHT can be quite complicated." Well, if it was easy, it wouldn't be a challenge.  
"How do I figure out the strategy?" Oh, she's _definitely_ frowning now.  
"My child, it would be best if you simply waited for me to arrive and end the FIGHT." I cross my arms over my chest. I think I see Frisk smirk.  
"No offense, ma'am, but I like to know all my options. And if it's possible for me not to be massively inconveniencing you, I'd like to do that." Ouch. That came out a little passive-aggressive. Woops. She hesitates, clearly torn  between the two options.  
"Look. Even if, there might be a time when you can't come and save me. Don't you think it would be useful to know how to defuse the situation?" I can figure it out on my own, if I have to, but I'd prefer to at least _try_ to obtain the information in a safe manner first. She sighs heavily.  
"SPARE the training dummy, my child, and I will show you." I am not sure if I have a bad feeling about this. I SPARE the dummy-"let's be friends, ey?" with goofy finger guns (no, I'm not a ridiculously awkward person. Why do you ask?)-and stand in wait for instruction. Toriel takes a deep breath. Frisk looks worried, putting a little hand on her leg-they can't even _reach_ her arm. She smiles down at them.  
"I will draw your SOUL into a FIGHT to show you firsthand how _dangerous_ it can be. You may then decide if this is truly the path you wish to pursue." Frisk is frowning, shaking their head. I stand my ground.  
"Alright." She hesitates, then the world goes black and white-there's still the whirling feeling, but it's not as bad as the first few times-and I can't see Frisk anymore, just Toriel.  
CHECK: HP 440 (Woah) AT, DF...I have nothing to compare them to-80 and 80-and a tagline.  
_She knows what's best for you_. Yeesh. That's terrifyingly close to 'mother knows best'. Which. Usually does not pan out too well, in reality or media. _I_ will be the judge of what's best for me, thank you. A wave of _oh my god that's fucking fire she's throwing fire at me_ -I dodge. Moving is...a lot easier, somehow, in FIGHTs than it would be otherwise. There's this weird...weightlessness, for one thing. And I don't get out of breath, which is good, because I didn't bring my fucking inhaler. _Shit_ , lady! What the fuck! I _barely_ dodged those three. Heart hammering, I stand ready to jump out of the way again. She stares me down, aloof. Indignation and rebelliousness spike in me.  
Oh, _that's_ how she wants to play? _Two can play at this game_. I glare at her. She seems surprised, then masks it with aloofness again. Pf. Yeah. Right, lady. I continue glaring. She seems a little unnerved under the pretense, and I cross my arms.  
" _Mother knows best,_ huh?" It's like a wall slams down over her expression. I shake my head, fists clenched.  
"I make my _own_ decisions, ma'am. I've lived long enough under someone else's thumb." Despite my anger, I feel the need to be at least somewhat polite. She _thinks_ she's doing what's right. I have to disabuse her of that notion, but I don't need to be _nasty_ about it. (Or, at least, I'll _try_ not to be. The fire burning under my skin has other things in mind, and it's what pushes me forward.  
It's a delicate balancing act.) I do continue glowering, however. She seems to have steeled herself, but the fireballs are shaky and veer away from me. I lessen my glare somewhat.  
"I'm not planning on _picking_ fights. But if someone attacks me, I need to know how to defend myself." A beat of quiet, then,  
"Running away doesn't feel like a solution." Neither does waiting, but I already expressed that. Another line of fireballs, and this time they aren't shaky or avoiding me. One singes my arm, and I hiss. Her expression falters, but locks down quickly.  
"What are you proving this way?!" She half-yells. I don't answer. The fireballs end, and I lick my arm carefully. It would have been better immediately, but it'll cool the burn somewhat. Touching it hurts, but the cooling makes it worth it.  
It still isn't pleasant. I hold my arm protectively.  
"I'm _trying_ to have a rational discussion, actually. You're the one who turned it into a pissing match!" I stomp before I can stop myself. (The energy has to go _somewhere_ , though it would have been nice for it to be less  _childish_.) I'm losing my temper; my patience has never been very long. She hesitates very strongly. (To be fair, I had a good amount of 'blame' as far a making it a pissing match goes. I've always had a hard time walking away from a challenge.) The next wave of fireballs does that scattering thing. I stand in one place, holding my arm. Text appears.   
***Toriel is SPAREing you.**  It doesn't sound like Frisk. I force the glower off of my features.  
"Let's...try and work this out. Peaceably. With no more fire balls, preferably." The world does it's little dance, and Frisk runs up to me. They make a fuss over the burn on my arm, and actually _glare_ at Toriel, who suddenly looks very guilty.  
"Give me your arm, my child." I stand back up, look her in the eye.  
"I would prefer you didn't call me that." She looks stricken, and I feel bad, but. I'm not a child. (Even if I want nothing more than for her to hug me and tell me it's going to be alright and offer me another slice of pie.) She nods, not making eye contact.  
"...give me your arm, please, Elliot. I am..I am an adept healer." I hesitate before doing so. She smiles a little brokenly, and I wish I wasn't in the middle of holding strong so I could give her a hug, because she just looks so..  
...Fuck that.  
I smile back at her, slightly. (It isn't the brightest, but it's honest, and it dims the fire down to the embers.) She seems startled, then beams back. Frisk holds my other arm, staring up at me.  
***Are you okay?**  I gaze down at them.  
"Yes, I'm okay. Trust me, I've had worse than this." Probably. Just not in burns.   
(....hey. Don't give me that look. I've just always been really cautious, okay? I've never even broken a bone.) They grip my arm a little tighter, and I wince in realization of how that must have sounded. A cooling _green_ sensation balms any pain, and I relax despite myself, then remember the topic at hand.  
"Not, uh, like _that_ , kiddo. I'm pretty fast when I want to be." Wink and half-grin.  
"They never caught me." And thank the gods for that. Who knows what would've happened? This seems to worry and reassure them at the same time. They raise their eyebrows, and I huff at them, guessing what they're thinking.  
"Hey, _you_ try dodging about a million fireballs at a time!" They laugh silently at that, eyes crinkling, and seem a little more reassured.  
"I'll get the hang of it. It'll take some practice, though," I sneak a glance over at Toriel.  
"maybe, uh, not with fire. Though." She's frowning, though it doesn't seem to be directed at me. My arm feels...actually completely better? She relinquishes it and steps back before scanning me up and down. Why?  
"My chi-Elliot. Where else are you injured?" I blink.  
"Um." Oh. Right. The frog thing. With the thing. I hold up my (other) arm uncertainly-my first instinct had been to block _whatever was coming at my face_. She frowns harder, tsking, and takes it carefully. (Funnily enough, I can see _her_ , but...not really? More of, just, her general...posture, and facial expression. It's not like seeing exactly the way I'm used to.) More green-but this it's closer to silver-and then transitions smoothly into a warm, cloudy...appearance, before sinking into my wrist. I sigh quietly in relief. She gives my arm back, and I rub it reflexively, testing for damage that I know won't be there.  
"Thank you. I didn't know...healing magic was a thing. Well. Obviously. I didn't know _magic_ was a thing. Before the whole, uh, monsters..." I trail off. Clear my throat. She mentioned magic (and yes, I was shocked and amazed) but wasn't very specific about what it could do. Then she distracted me (on purpose, maybe?) with food.   
"Perhaps it is time we returned home," she says.  
...home? I don't say anything. Frisk nods, and takes my hand. They guide me back to the house.  
The walk is quiet.  
_______________

By default, we ended up in the living room. There is a table in the kitchen, but...  
I think we all have the impression that it would feel a bit like tight quarters, at the moment. Given the mood.  
Toriel's hands are folded primly-somewhere. I can't distinguish whether it's on the table or her lap. You'd think I'd be able to tell by the bend of her arms, but ehh. Fighting her was....  
If I didn't have the distinct impression she would never seriously hurt me, and that she _honestly wants what's best_ , I would have been.  
Terrified. Fire magic aside, she could most likely break me like a twig. She's built like a giant-I don't know for sure how tall she is, but I'd guess between seven and nine feet. _Definitely_ at least seven, though I think it's a good bit upwards of there.  
And the house is built to reflect it. My feet don't reach the floor in my chair, and I can only imagine how small Frisk looks. (It's probably adorable. This is one of those times it'd be nice to be able to see.)  
Toriel clears her throat. She brought the pie back out, but my stomach is twisting a little. I hold my hands in my lap, interlocking my fingers and pulling slightly, trying to ground myself. She's such a nice lady...  
...but I can't let her control me. Even if she means really, really well. I can't live like that. And giving her the impression otherwise would...well, it'd be dishonourable. And rude. And also, I'm way too curious to just stay in one place, and I get the feeling if she had her way, I'd stay bundled up by the fire for probably the rest of my natural life-out of harm's way.  
Out of _fun's_ way. (There's so much to learn, here...it makes me excited and **scared** at the same time, because it's a shot in the dark.)   
Right. Mind back to the matter at hand.  
Toriel clears her throat. I clear mine in response; it feels a little clogged. She breaks the resultant silence.  
"So. You wish to learn to fight." My head tilts just a little. I stare at an indiscriminate point on the table.  
"Not _fight_. I want to learn how not to get hurt, how to...talk people down. I don't want to hurt anybody. And I'd run away if I had to. But. I mean. A random frog walked up to me and attacked, so. I get the feeling fighting is going be happening a lot. Or." I shift my eyes to the side a little as I correct myself.  
"FIGHTing." Shift them back. I play with my hands a little bit, shoulders hunched. Silence for a little while, then...she chuckles.  
"You are right, my-Elliot. You are right, Elliot. It is traditional for monsters to fight any human they come across. The war certainly did not help to stabilize the relations between our two species..." This time, she's the one to look to the side. I frown a little, ducking my head.  
"...War. You mentioned that. What was it about?" She laughs again, a little, but it's dark and almost quiet.  
"Fear. Humans were afraid of monsters-because we can absorb your SOULs." Her eyes flash with something, and the sensation of my SOUL in my chest-something I didn't feel, specifically (because it wasn't there, or because I didn't _know_ it was there?) before falling-is almost drawn out.  
"....But why? Why? Can't humans absorb monster SOULs? What happens if a monster absorbs a human SOUL?" Her hands are very primly folded on the table. She closes her eyes.  
"Because it gives monsters immense powers. With access to human DETERMINATION....with enough of it, a monster could be virtually unstoppable." That is a scary thought. But. My brow furrows.  
"But humans have access to all sorts of horrible things. We _make_ all sorts of horrible things. Nukes. Submarines that could destroy the world. Trashy movies." I pause, trying to regain my train of thought.   
Ah. There it is.  
"What do you mean, 'virtually unstoppable'? How do you absorb a SOUL? Could another human absorb a human SOUL?" That thought is frankly scary. She shakes her head, slowly.  
"Humans cannot absorb another human's SOUL, in the same manner monsters cannot absorb monster SOULs. They can _hold_ them, but..." Her eyes drop.  
"It is not the same." A nerve seems to have been struck. A memory? I bite my lip and lower my head a little.  
"As for humans - yes, they can absorb monster SOULs. Theoretically. But monsters do not persist after death the same way humans do - except for a very special type of monster. Supposedly, any human could absorb any monster's SOUL, but practically...it is not heard of. And boss monsters are not only rare, they are exceptionally strong." The gears in my head click and turn. There are a few beats of not talking.  
"So. To absorb a SOUL. They have to be _dead?!_ " It comes out a little more shocked-sounding than I had intended. She nods, sadly and slowly.  
"But..." I'm not even sure what I'm protesting. Why someone would want to do that? How it's ethical? What the _point_ is?  
Is strength really worth denying someone final rest? That's a horrifying thought. I lift my eyes, slowly.  
"...What happens to them, after they're absorbed? Are they...gone? Their consciousness?" An odd...movement. It's almost a wince.  
"There is not much research on it, my-my young friend. It has...not happened frequently." She looks down again, eyes drowning in memories. Definitely memories. I bite my lip again. I don't want to make her talk about something that hurts, but I have so many questions. I can't think of them right now, though. But I _know_ I'll have a ton later, once my mind has finished...whirring.  
There's a lot to work through. I look back down at the table. A small hand on my arm startles me.  
"Frisk?" They look up, then hold their arms up to me. I scrunch my brows at them. Shouldn't they be comforting Toriel?  
***Up,**  they order. I lift them obediently, set them beside me.  
There's plenty of space. They wrap their arms around my waist and bury their face in my shoulder. It's oddly comforting. I rest a hand on their head, looking down at them. A surge of maternal protectiveness sweeps through me. If anyone tries to hurt this child...  
Well. They'll have to go through me, first. And Toriel, I suspect. (And I do believe she's the bigger threat, as far as that goes. Most definitely....and also literally.) God, why couldn't my boys have been more like this little one? I push that thought away. It's irrelevant. They're aboveground, for one thing. And my nephews, for another. (It still stings-unintentionally or not, I left them without saying goodbye. As much as they get on my nerves...the thought of not seeing their little smiles, holding their hands, reading them another book-I grip the fabric of Frisk's sweater a little convulsively as I blink back tears. A few manage to escape despite my best efforts.)   
Not relevant. Not relevant. Focus. Breathe. (Why did I hear the last part in my mom's voice?) I gently tuck Frisk's head under my chin. They hug me tighter. After a few moments, I release a slow breath. Some of the tension in my chest has eased.  
"Thanks, kiddo. I...thanks." _I needed that_ or _thanks for the hug_  don't quite...aren't really adequate. I forcibly unclench my fingers from their sweater, smooth out the material. They look up at me with an inquisitively worried expression. I smile without showing my teeth, eyes tired. They nod. Toriel speaks again. I had almost forgotten her presence, but it doesn't make me jump, so that's good. (Okay, it doesn't make me jump _much_.)   
"...You will be fine in most monster FIGHTs. I am a boss monster. If...if you wish to leave..." Her voice is breaking. I can't look at her face, but I do anyway. Her expression ... pained. If it weren't for the stirring calmness that just settled beneath my sternum, it would be unbearably painful to see. As it is, there's only a mild twinge.  
"...I cannot stop you." Leave? Leave _where?_  I don't...Frisk tugs my sleeve. I stand. They slide off the chair after me, and I approach Toriel slowly. (The waves of calm are visible externally. I didn't know I could see myself. And oddly, it isn't forced calm. It feels...natural. Calm is what she needs right now. Calm is what I can give her.) I place a hand on her arm.  
"I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt Frisk. I don't want to hurt anyone. I want to _explore_. This place is _fascinating_ , Toriel." I put my other hand on her arm.  
"I don't know what you mean by 'leave', though. So, sorry. 'Cause I can't say if I will or not, 'cause I don't know what you mean. But I can't be caged. It's..I lived like that for a number of years. Never again. Never." She's crying silently. I reach up to touch her face. She's bent nearly double at this point, sobbing silently. I touch my forehead to her upper arm.  
"And I want to be your friend. But I can't let you...be a mother, the way I think you...seem to want to? Like it seems like you are with Frisk. I'm too old for that, and. Anyway. Like I said. But you seem like a pretty rad lady, and...friends? Friends I can do. If you want, I mean. And...it seems like you have a lot of sad stories. I know..sharing helps. So. If you ever need someone to listen. Well, I mean, not _ever_. If I'm in the middle of putting out a fire or something, please maybe not then." An undignified sort of snort escapes her, and her whole frame shakes. It's like resting against a mountain. A very soft mountain, albeit. I continue.  
"But. There's. It seems like a lot of things are different. And...I'm sorry. That I can't be...safe, like you want me to?" I tilt my head in general confusion. She sniffles, then draws herself up, standing. Her eyes are wet, but have something in them-perseverance, or determination, maybe.  
I've always had a hard time telling the two apart. She sniffles, but it's oddly dignified.  
"....You are right. You are not a child, despite...despite my wish to protect you." She almost crumples again. Frisk steps forward, a hand on her leg again, looking up. Toriel smiles down at them sadly, takes their tiny hand in hers.  
"Yes. You are not a child. And there is much to learn...for both of us, I suspect. Forgive an old lady for..." She sniffles again. "...For forgetting that children grow up." I step froward, hand outstretched uncertainly. She takes it in one of her own, and we stand, heads bowed, except for Frisk. Their eyes are closed, but they seem to look up anyway. They're radiant; there's almost a crown above their head, a single-hued whitish aurora, but with jags. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before holding my other handout to Frisk. They take it, and the circle is complete.  
We stand like that for a while.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I don't know much about the Underground, as Toriel says it's called. But I want to learn. We stood in the living room for a while, just...letting emotions roll over us. Mostly, I think for Frisk and me it was just making sure Toriel knew we were there. I don't know what she's gone through, but it seems...like a lot of it may have been alone.  
That can't have been healthy. (But maybe I can help. Not much, I imagine, but. I can try. And every little bit counts! Even if I'm not very useful, I can be a little bit useful, and maybe I can make her smile again. Smiles are good for you.)  
After that, Frisk pulled me into their room to play quietly with some of their neato toys. Neither of us were very interested in them, but it gave both of us something to do with our hands, and a pretense for our state of minds as we processed what had just happened. (A kid shouldn't have to see their parent break down. But Frisk...has been through a lot of things a kid should never have to go through, I think. And it definitely didn't phase them the way it would have me. Or. Most people. Or just about any kid, I imagine.  
They really are something special.)  
***So. Where do you want to go?**  I blink at that, torn out of my thoughts.  
"...go?" They nod.  
***It isn't all the Ruins. Mom told me about different places here. Even though I've never been to them.**  That sounds a little odd, but I don't question it. They pull out some paper and something to mark it up with. They make a box.  
***This is where you fell. The Ruins**. They circle it. I nod, leaning forward intriguedly. They make a hallway, then...a door? There's an odd symbol on it.  
***That's the door out of the Ruins**. They hesitate.  
***I've never been beyond it, but Mom says it's cold past there. And then there's a town called Snowdin-** they draw a few houses, with smoke coming out the chimneys. My mouth twitches.  
***And then there's Waterfall-** They draw a waterfall.  
Wow. And...  
"What are those?" I ask. They freeze, then try to act nonchalant.  
***Crystals. They aren't everywhere, but...Mom says there's a wishing room, in Waterfall. It's the closest thing...**  They look down at the paper, brow scrunched and mouth pressed together.  
***The closest thing to stars, down here. They're rocks, in the ceiling, and they shine.**  Huh. That sounds....  
...beautiful. And sad. Life without the stars? (It's only...well, to be honest, I've only had the stars for a little while myself. And now...I can't really see too well. At least not consistently. But. I'm nearsighted.  
The stars have always been a blur to me. Just...like streetlights through a window, at night. But one night, I got curious. Everyone's always going on about how amazing stars are. So. A few years after I stopped refusing to wear glasses.  
I went out. And looked up.  
And. Well.  
Now I understand.)  
"Hmm. Not the same though, huh?" They shake their head, then bend down to draw more.  
***Then there's Hotland.**    
"Let me guess: It's hot." They cover their mouth, giggling. I poke them gently.  
"Don't hide that beautiful smile!" They look shy, but lower their hands.  
"There we go," I say, beaming at them proudly. They gain somewhat more confidence. I leap up, suddenly (momentarly) energetic.  
"Don't you _ever_ let _anyone_ tell you you aren't beautiful! Or handsome! Beautif-handser-ful!" I pose, one hand on my hip and the other a fit in the air, as I finish speaking. They giggle again, but don't cover their smile this time. I grin down at them, then plop back onto the floor.  
"What's next?" The smile drops off, and they play with the marker a little.  
***...The palace. It's where the king lives.**...Traditionally. Yeah. Monsters have a king? I voice the thought. They nod. Their little face wrinkles.  
***I think Mom used to be the queen. She doesn't like to talk about it, though.**    
"Ah. Thanks for the heads up." Also the interesting information. How much dirt has this kid _got?_  They laugh silently at my expression. I make a face at them. I prop my head up on my hands.  
"So...what are most monsters like? I get the feeling you've met a few." If the way they acted around the Froggit is any indication. They tap their chin, head tilted, and swing their legs behind them.  
***Monsters are....nice. They can hurt you, but they don't usually really _want_ to. **I nod.   
"Go on?" If they have more info/don't mind. They go back to drawing, speaking at the same time.  
***Different monsters like different things. And some of them look really funny. Moldsmols are my favorite. Besides Blooky.** I let out a little bark of a laugh.  
"Pretend I don't know any of these people, kid. And 'moldsmols'? Is that like a sub-species of monsters, or something?" They nod, coloring something in.  
***They wiggle.**  That. Doesn't help me much, kiddo. Before I can say that, they continue.  
***And Blooky's a ghost! They're awesome! And they're really good at music. They live in Waterfall, so if you go there, you should visit them.** I blink.  
"A....ghost. Like a human ghost?" They shake their head.  
***No. Like a monster ghost.** They scratch their head. I snerk, because it's funny, and they shoot me a look. A grin lopsidedly.  
"Soooo...they were a monster, and then died, and then turned into a ghost?" I ask. Another headshake.  
***Nuh-uh. At least, I don't _think_ so. I think they've always been one.** I process that for a minute.  
"...Huh. Interesting. So. Froggits, Wigglemeisters-" they shove me gently at that "-Blooky-the-ghost-who-probably-isn't-dead, and Miss Toriel the...goat mom lady." Frisk _roars_ with laughter at that, rolling onto their back to clutch their stomach. I eye them.  
"Glad you think it's funny. I have no idea how to be culturally sensitive with these people. How am I even supposed to ask half the questions I have without being offensive?! How am I supposed to know if the questions are offensive?!?!"  This makes them laugh harder, and they start to roll around. I carefully snag the marker and paper before they go Tokyo monster on it. They stop after a little while, wiping at one eye. I snort-huff at them, and put the art supplies back down. They stick out their tongue, and I stick mine out back. My eye catches on the 'map'.  
"I dunno. I wanna see those 'stars', but I haven't got my glasses." I tell them, a little sadly. They pat me on the shoulder consolingly.  
"But, on the bright side, I love cold places. I mean, unless it's super mega wicked cold." They shake their head. My brows come together.  
"Huh. I don't know if I actually am dressed for 'cold', though...It was fall on the surface." Nod.  
***Mom can give you some clothes. She has a biiiiiig closet with different clothes for if a human falls, and most of the humans that fell have been kids, so! She probably has some adult stuff that would fit you.** They tell me. I tilt my head.  
"Clothes for if a human falls? She mentioned that. Is it her job?" Frisk looks away and shakes their head. I drop the subject with a muttered 'sorry'. They jump up and grab me by the wrist.  
"Whoa, whaaaat's the rush, buddy?" Their eyes are wide and excited.  
***Let's tell Mom! That you want to go to Snowdin!** I blink at them.  
"I'm not sure she'd take that too well...she was just really upset. I don't want to make her feel bad right now..." They shake their head.  
***Mom'll be over it by now. Actually, she'll probably push you out the door to convince herself it's the right thing. You just gotta tell her you want to come _back_ before she gets to that part. **They stop tugging and talking at the same time, as if realizing they said something they weren't supposed to. I look down at them, eyebrow raised.  
"Never left, huh?" They're tensed and frozen. I look down at them worriedly.  
"...kiddo?" They throw themself at me.  
***Pleasedon'tmentionittoMomshewon'tknowwhatyoumean-I'm sorry- _pleasepleaseplease_ don't tell her!** I hold them at arm's length.  
"Whoakay, kid. You're not making any sense. But is it a dangerous thing?" They shake their head vehemently.  
"For you, for anybody?" Another very strong shake.  
"Then it's your business. I mean, feel free to tell me. And I can't say I'm not curious. But I won't spill the beans unless I think somebody's gonna get hu- _oof_." They tackle me in a hug.  
***Thankyouthankyouthankyouyou'rethegreatestthankyou**. I laugh a little breathlessly and pat them on the back.  
"No prob. Your business. Just...geez, kiddo. Take it easy on the tackling, will ya? I'm gonna have a kid-shaped bruise, come tomorrow." They chortle and squeeze me one last time before releasing me and then snatching my wrist to pull me along again. I laugh and follow.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


End file.
